Josie. Shes my best friend in this place. When I’m on the verge of tears, waiting for my eyes to wet with sorrow, she's there. Comforting without having to say a word. Her almost yellow, green eyes are a distraction by them self, locking with mine as she tells me,

Its alright...calm down; breath; think.
She (in a cliche way) is my rock. In lighter times comedy is the only thing living within her. Rolling like lunatics on the floor crying shrieks of amazement and joy at this world shes telling me to,

Watch more closely
Wild as any animal in the detailed world, she sprints places, dismissing walking as,

Common folk habits...in her special way of speaking. The outside, garden, trees, forests, hills, mountains, the grass under my feet, the snow falling on my upturned face, is our kingdom. We rule as queens of our mild Narnia. Eyes gleaming in the bite of the bitter orange autumn sunset, we search for unfortunate mice within the browned, damp, but still green underbrush. Oh but he light fades now. Mice eyes, though lit with fear are dim now. The porch light glistens on the dew we have collected. Mine, a long burnt orange with a whisper of blonde hordes the drops of moisture, but hers, her short mane has won the easter egg hunt for those small particles. Shining like pricks of orange stars, her hair, layered with a galaxy of drops, jostles side to side in the late days’ rays as I carry her inside. The colour and intensity shifting, making her dance without having to move. The multicolored of her hair tears your eyes from any subject on an ordinary day. Black twirling into dark brown grabbing then that bright orange almost deep fire, yet a blaze of gold tips everything, blending and amplifying, this is no ordinary day, this is her day. This is her inner beauty, daring a dip into the physical world.
Astonishing...

Within, a fire, feasting on the damp branches that, just outside, hid those fearful mice, blazes in the center of this kind house. Our noses, especially hers, are pink with the chill of or Mild Kingdom of Narnia. We scurry and crawl on four feet to crouch and cringe with warm joy as the close flames revive us. Offers of hot-cocoa are given and accepted. We share. That hot steam flowing freely into my still chilled nose and delivering a precious scent, that of pine, mint, and the delicious savory chocolate liquidized within, we share it.

Bellies bulging with warm content, we retire to the satin-like cushions of the couch. Slipping my lids over my gaze I sigh; She does the same. Scrounging now for the remote within the furniture's boules, we reveal its hiding place. The beaten buttons and painted handle gives up the power to our television. Hours of giggles proceed. Night, now plunging itself into the depth of black, has settled over this place. Those fearful mice have forgotten terror and are asleep, my sister in her bed, asleep, and the house itself has settled and rested its conciseness for the night. Yet we are nocturnal. We do not sleep now. We merely take naps...cat naps.

Eight hours! Eight whole hours wasted!, she would have exclaimed. I couldn't argue. She had a point.

So we went, resigning from the living room, and trotting back to our haven; My room. The blue grey glow, casting hollow shadows on our features as our heads bend low, envelopes us. Leaning lower with wide eyes at times and others squinting, we throw the hours out the windows. YouTube, DeviantArt, iFunny, Reddit. All entertaining us as the laptop nestles on my propped up knees.
The comforter of my bed, faded baby blue and creased with our weight, warms us as the heater tries its best to create a bit more heat in this cold room. Its beginning to dawn. Our Mild Narnia reawakens oh so slowly. Our lids heavier and heavier with each blink sag. Our bodies aching from searches or fearful rodents. Our minds slowed and hazy from that ‘waste of eight hours’. We drift, letting the computer hibernate, we drift. Letting sleep usher us off to wherever it wishes for that time. We drift. The faded baby blue comforter now safely secure under my shin. She curls around my head. Purring softly and kneading my scalp with gentle love. Josie, with her astounding curiosity (which my kill her one day) nestles in my pillow. Her calico fur, which had just a few hours ago burned in the amazing light of our Narnia now tickles my exposed forehead as I drift. My rock, my friend, my company in this place; My cat.